


a different kind of advice

by enamuko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dedue is also there for like half a second, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Old Fodlan nobility are a bunch of homophobic prudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29723097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko
Summary: When Felix and Dimitri are clearly having Issues, it falls to Sylvain as their oldest and dearest friends to offer his advice.It's too bad he has absolutely no clue what he's talking about, and misreads the situation completely.(Thankfully, things still turn out fine in the end.)(OR: Sylvain thinks Dimitri needs advice on how to get Felix into bed, when what he really wants is to put a ring on him.)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a request from someone I have since lost contact with, but I still loved the idea and so I'm putting it out into the world!
> 
> Also, apologies to the original requester who wanted purely platonic Sylvain, but I couldn't resist adding a few tiny sprinklings of hints that this boy might be in denial. Hopefully they're small enough to be overlooked if that person is reading this!

When Sylvain finds Felix, he’s in the middle of destroying his third training dummy.

He whistles, in equal parts impressed and scared. It’s been a long time since he’s had to deal with a _three training dummies_ kind of day.

“Hey, Felix!”

Sylvain knows the whistling was enough to make Felix aware of his presence— in fact, he probably knew he was there from the moment he stepped into the training grounds of Castle Fhirdiad. They didn’t spend nearly six years finely honing their skills in war for nothing, after all.

Still, when Felix is holding a sharp object and in a bad mood, it never hurts to announce himself, so he waves to him as he strides across the hard-packed dirt.

“If you’re not here to train, Sylvain, you might as well just leave. I’m not in the mood.”

“Train for what, Felix?” Sylvain ignores the warning slash threat as he tilts his head, stopping just a sword’s length away from his best friend (just in case). “In case you haven’t noticed, the war’s over.”

“Doesn’t mean you have any excuse to let yourself get sloppy.”

Sylvain thinks otherwise, but since Felix isn’t literally attacking him, he figures that’s a good sign.

Normally, he would be happy to let Felix burn himself out on training and come back when he was feeling a little more amicable and open to chatting— this isn’t the same Felix from their days in the Officer’s Academy, who wouldn’t stop training until he was basically ready to drop.

But from what Annette has told him, that’s not likely to happen any time soon.

_“You need to talk to him, Sylvain! He’s so grouchy all the time and he’s always in the training yard! He hasn’t been this bad since before the war!”_

Sylvain had wondered— is _still_ wondering— why this is _his_ job when he doesn’t exactly have a proven track record of making Felix _less_ grumpy, but he’s never been one to turn down a pretty girl… And Annette’s puppy dog eyes are a weapon that should be _banned_.

“If you don’t have anything _better_ to do—” Felix huffs and sheaths his sword— his _actual_ sword, not a training sword, that he was using to beat the non-existent snot out of those training dummies, which explains why he’s destroyed _three_ of them— and wanders over to the rack of training weapons. “Then spar with me.”

Sylvain knows this dance very well. When Felix is stressed or angry or— well, just feeling anything too much, really— he always needs to get that energy out so he can think clearly, and he usually does that by whaling on whoever is unlucky enough to be nearby.

Usually, _he’s_ that unlucky someone. It’s the trade off for getting to spend time with Felix, who has been his best friend since before Felix could _walk_ , so usually he feels like the scrapes and bruises and the amount of _effort_ he has to put in are worth it.

He’s not sure that’s going to be the case this time. Felix looks _pissed_.

(And for once, he’s _pretty sure_ he’s not the reason why.)

Felix tosses him a lance and picks out one for himself, weighing it carefully in his hands even though it’s just a training lance. It surprises him because Felix has never _liked_ lances— he’s never been especially _bad_ with them, because Felix is never especially bad at _any_ kind of fighting, but he’s always preferred swords and hated anything his father liked.

Sylvain appreciates that Felix is at least giving him a fighting chance; he’s never once been able to beat Felix at a sword fight, and even though he’s got a significant weight and height advantage, he can still only beat him at grappling about a quarter of the time.

(It really goes to show just how much Felix likes to fight, and is _good_ at it, that even with lances Sylvain doesn’t really have an advantage, or at least much of one. He’s been training in lances his entire life thanks to his Hero’s Relic, and even though he spent a lot of time slacking off and having to be _forced_ into training, he’s still a _good fighter_. 

He’d had to be, to survive the war— they’d _all_ had to be.)

He weighs the lance in his hands just like Felix did. Sylvain hadn’t been _completely_ joking when he’d asked Felix what he was training for; it’s been a long time since Sylvain has set foot in a training arena or held a weapon for anything more than ceremonial reasons.

(The Lance of Ruin is very securely in a vault back at Garreg Mach, where he fully intends for it to stay for the rest of time.)

Felix doesn’t say anything or lay any ground rules as he steps back to get into position. Sylvain almost thinks that _he_ should, but he doesn’t want to push his luck, and really what can they do when they’re batting each other around with wooden sticks, pretty much?

(He tries not to think of all of the training dummies Felix used to destroy while they were in school, also with ‘wooden sticks’.)

Sylvain is definitely thinking of those training dummies when, five rounds later, he’s lying on the ground battered and bruised.

“Alright, Felix,” he says, slapping the ground next to him. “I yield.”

“Is that really all you have in you? I knew you’d gotten weak.”

He might have taken that as a more dire insult if he hadn’t heard Felix be equally as dramatic when one of their friends couldn’t handle eating spicy food.

Instead, Sylvain pushes himself up into a sitting position— no small task because every movement makes him ache all over like he’s been trampled by an entire battalion’s worth of horses.

“Come on, Felix.” He fixes his best friend with a hard stare. “You’ve gotten to beat me around for a while, now it’s time to tell me what’s bothering you.”

Felix freezes where he’s putting their training lances back on the rack.

“...Nothing’s bothering me,” he says, and Sylvain would know he was lying through his teeth even if they _hadn’t_ known each other for their entire lives.

He waits and just stares at Felix, waiting to see if he’ll say anything else, knowing Felix _must_ know that he’s aware of just how terribly he’s lying to him.

Eventually, it works. Felix sighs and continues staring at the weapon rack instead of looking at him, but Sylvain can see in the slump of his shoulders that he’s given in.

(If only it were so easy _every_ time.)

“...it’s Dimitri,” Felix replies.

_Well, duh,_ Sylvain wants to say, but he knows that will make Felix stop talking and probably _also_ get him punched, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“He’s been acting… _Strange_ lately,” Felix continues eventually. “He’s jumpy, and he always seems to have some kind of excuse to… _Leave_ whenever we’re alone together. I have no idea what’s wrong with him, but it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

By which Sylvain knows that he means it’s _upsetting_ him, and Sylvain can’t say he blames him.

Ever since near the end of the war, when Dimitri had finally come to his senses and started working through… Whatever was (and probably still is) haunting him (Sylvain wouldn’t even pretend to understand everything His Majesty had been through, and how it must have affected him to make him act the way he did when the war began), Felix had gone from being barely able to stand being in the same room as him, to…

Well.

Calling them ‘inseparable’ was probably underselling it a little bit.

When Felix had told Sylvain he and Dimitri were _courting_ (with all of the mixed disdain and awe one would expect of Felix to have towards someone _courting_ him), and to keep it a secret so the entire Kingdom wouldn’t know, Sylvain had kept his mouth shut and thought that it was awfully cute that they thought there was anyone in the Kingdom who _didn’t_ already know.

It’s _still_ supposed to be a ‘secret’, though Sylvain has no idea how Felix and Dimitri haven’t cottoned on to the fact that _everyone already knows_. Not just their friends and comrades, either— hasn’t Dimitri been the least bit curious why none of the skeezy nobles have been trying to convince him to marry their daughters?

Sylvain isn’t sure whether he’s keeping his mouth shut because he wants to be polite, or whether it’s because he finds it hilarious and he wants to see if Dimitri and Felix will eventually figure it out on their own.

“I can talk to him if you want,” Sylvain says, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.

“Do you really think he’s going to tell you something if he hasn’t told _me_?”

_Have you even_ asked _him, or have you just been sulking?_

Sylvain is pretty proud of how much he’s matured, being able to keep those thoughts _inside_ his head and keep himself relatively unpunched.

“I don’t know, Fe; I can be a pretty sneaky guy.”

“...Do what you want, then. It’s not like I’m going to _stop_ you.”

As far as Sylvain’s concerned, that’s Felix practically _begging_ for his help— and even if it wasn’t, it’s not like he’s going to turn his back on friends in need.

Especially ones who need advice on their love lives.

It’s another two days before Sylvain has a chance to speak with Dimitri alone, what with his own business in Fhirdiad and Dimitri’s duties as king— but they’re hardly through the door in Dimitri’s quarters before Sylvain can see exactly what Felix was talking about.

“You know, Dimitri, you really should do something to brighten this place up a little. A personal touch can go a long way.”

“Ah— I suppose I just… Haven’t had the time.”

Sylvain makes a point of walking over to a shelf that’s pretty barren aside from what looks like a bunch of history and financial books, but really he’s watching Dimitri out of the corner of his eye.

He’s just… Standing in his own doorway like he’s afraid to come in any further, even though _it’s his own sitting room_ , and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. It would be cute if it wasn’t concerning, because as bashful as Dimitri can be, Sylvain hasn’t seen him looking _this_ nervous in a long time.

What could be making Dimitri so nervous, and if he really is avoiding Felix in particular, what could it have to do with him? Sylvain can think of a few things, but none of it seems like anything that Dimitri would be involved in…

The idea of _Dimitri_ having an affair, cheating on _Felix_ , is almost so preposterous that Sylvain only barely stops himself from laughing out loud and then having to explain himself.

“Ah… Sylvain, is there… Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“You know, actually, I was about to ask you the same thing,” Sylvain says, giving Dimitri his best ‘I’m definitely not up to anything and you should totally trust me’ look and wondering if he’s distracted enough to actually buy it for once. “You seem like you’re pretty distracted these days, Your Majesty— is it anything I can help with? You know you can tell me anything.”

For a second he wonders if he’s being too forward, which seems like it might be a problem when Dimitri is acting like a corner animal that’s about to bolt. His eyes widen and he looks at Sylvain like he’s just… Read his mind or something.

Sylvain is glad that Dimitri is a lot better at politics than he is at hiding things. He just hopes those two things don’t have to coincide any time soon.

“W-well… I suppose I could use some advice… But only if you can promise to be discrete. And stop calling me ‘Your Majesty’.”

“Sorry, force of habit. But you know discrete is my middle name, Dimitri.”

“I’m fairly certain your middle name is Jose.”

“Ah, you get what I mean! Come on, let your old friend Sylvain ease your worries— tell me what’s been bothering you.”

The comment about discretion has him worried, but hey, this is Dimitri— how bad could it be?

That doesn’t quite ease _all_ of his nerves when Dimitri won’t look him in the eye as he invites him to sit with him in front of the unlit fireplace. It’s unlit, because it’s the middle of the day and the weather is surprisingly mild by Fhirdiad standards, but Sylvain is almost tempted to light it just to give them both a distraction.

And then, when Dimitri spends a solid _minute_ just staring into the empty fireplace with his hands folded over his mouth and an intense look of concentration, Sylvain is tempted to set the entire _room_ on fire just to give him a way out.

“Sylvain, I…” Dimitri clears his throat, then tries again. “As you know, I don’t have much… _Experience_ when it comes to relationships.”

_Oh Goddess, is Dimitri about to ask me for sex advice?_ Sylvain thinks, barely fighting to keep the grin off his face.

Followed immediately by, _Oh Goddess, is Dimitri about to ask_ me _for_ sex advice _with_ Felix _?_ and a feeling like he was about to throw up.

“I’ve been trying to take things… _Slowly_ with Felix. Between our mutual inexperience and the secrecy we’ve had to maintain…”

“Right, right…” Sylvain murmurs to show that he’s listening while also thinking, _Oh Goddess, he_ is _, isn’t he._

“But I find myself… _Dissatisfied_ with where our relationship is at the moment.” Dimitri sighs and slumps in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair. “I want us to move forward, but I’m… _Concerned_ about how Felix might feel about the matter.”

_What have I gotten myself into?_

“W-well, Dimitri…” Sylvain clears his throat and tries to imagine a scenario in which he gets through this talk without dying of embarrassment.

How is he supposed to give his _liege_ advice about _how to fuck his best friend_?

“You know, those sort of feelings… They’re completely natural! It’s something everyone feels when they’re with someone they care about— or, well, most people do, at least— and I bet Felix has those exact same… Feelings.”

He knows he’s rambling, but what else is he supposed to do? The idea of just… _Giving_ Dimitri advice for the bedroom is practically dizzying.

And if it was just some woman, Sylvain could do it— he would have killed for this opportunity when they were still students together, when he genuinely thought that poor uptight Dimitri just needed to get laid— but _Felix_?

What Dimitri and Felix have— it’s something special, something that’s been waiting to happen since they were kids, even if they ran into a few serious bumps in the road along the way.

And besides— while Sylvain is into guys and girls in equal measure, his experience with the former is, to put it mildly, _lacking_. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know _that_ much more than your average straight man…

“To be honest, I’m surprised to hear that _you guys_ of all people are struggling with something like that.”

It’s not like anyone could miss the two of them making eyes at each other constantly. Sylvain is pretty sure it’s the reason _everyone_ knows they’re together— if not then, then it would be the way Felix always glares at any woman outside of their small group of close friends that even tries to _talk_ to Dimitri.

“I would have thought you two would have, uh, crossed that bridge already, so to speak.”

“Really?” Dimitri looks at him with one wide eye. “Honestly, I’m surprised to hear you say that… And, well, there’s been so much to do, and we haven’t even talked about anything like that yet…”

_No wonder Felix is so annoyed all the time; he must be ridiculously pent up!_

That means that he really has no choice; if dying of embarrassment is what it takes to get Felix laid, then it’s a sacrifice he’s just going to have to make.

“Well… I don’t know how much help I can really be, but if there are any… _Particulars_ I can help you with…”

“Ah… I appreciate the offer, Sylvain. Truly.”

With Dimitri smiling at him like that, at least Sylvain feels like he’s doing a good thing, even if he can’t quite wrap his head around it.

“I suppose… What I’m struggling with most of all is figuring out the best time and place to ask.”

“Uh— well, in private, for starters.” Sylvain wonders whether Dimitri is _completely_ clueless about how all of this works— or whether he’s just not giving him enough credit.

_Maybe he’s just one of those people who wants everything to be_ perfect _,_ he thinks. _Yeah, that must be it. Dimitri is definitely the sappy, romantic type._

“Beyond that… Hm.” He has to stop and _really_ think about it. But also not think _too_ hard about it, because his brain might just explode. 

(At the very least, Dimitri doesn’t seem too interested in asking him about the _mechanics_ of it— he supposes even His Majesty has read some _less than innocent_ literature in his time, or maybe he’s the sort to take a more clinical approach…

Either way, _this_ is a lot easier…)

“We both know what Felix can be like,” he says. “It can be hard to figure out when he’s in a _receptive_ mood, but sparring with him first seems like a safe bet. At the very least, it should put him more at ease.”

(He tries hard not to think about the fact that he and Felix were sparring together just a few days ago. If he starts thinking of Felix as a sexual being he’s never going to stop. It will haunt him for the rest of his days.)

“Hm… And since he’s always so wound up, you could help him relax a little with a nice massage or something?” He’s just spitballing off the top of his head, but he almost feels proud of himself for giving genuinely good advice without veering into territory that will get him one of Dimitri’s Disapproving Looks.

(Although Dimitri is the one asking _him_ for help, so…)

“And, you know, there’s always the good old fashioned fall back… A nice romantic candlelit dinner for two. Trust me, that _always_ sets the mood.”

Dimitri is staring at him _intently_. Sylvain wouldn’t be surprised to see him taking notes. It makes him feel a little awkward… But it also strokes his ego, knowing that he’s the one Dimitri has come to for advice about something like this.

Maybe his advice from years ago is starting to rub off on him, after all.

(The unintentional innuendos aren’t helping him Not Think About what he’s suggesting, of course, but that’s the price he has to pay.)

“I see…” Dimitri nods, a serious look of concentration on his face.

He was right about this being important to him, it seems. It figures that Dimitri would be the type to make a big deal out of something like that.

“Thank you, Sylvain.” Dimitri is looking at him with a smile so earnestly grateful that it makes all of this worth it, honestly. “This has been… Very helpful. And thank you for taking the time to come and talk to me. Honestly, I don’t think I would have had the nerve to come and ask you first…”

“It’s no problem at all, Dimitri. Really.” He puts his hand up to stop him before he gets too far into his gratitude speech. “That’s what friends are for, after all. Oh, but— if I were you, I would put that advice into action some time soon, huh?”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because the more you avoid Felix, the grumpier he gets, and I’m not sure the royal coffers can handle the number of training dummies he’s going through these days.”

“O-oh…” Dimitri blushes and bows his head, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

Really, it’s hard to see the mad king that nearly led them all to destruction during the war— all he can see is the Dimitri he’s known ever since they were kids, proper and prim but awkward as Hell.

It’s nice to know that some things really never change. Dimitri and Felix being the same old Dimitri and Felix is pretty comforting.

Even when he’s trying not to think about it.

“Thank you for letting me know… I’ll be sure to take care of everything soon.” There’s determination in his voice that, despite the subject matter, is pretty adorable.

_You better, because I’m not having this conversation with_ Felix _next; I like my testicles attached to my body_.

He’s so glad he got over the urge to say anything that came to mind a _long_ time ago.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not as though the advice Sylvain gave him was especially unique, or insightful, though Dimitri would never say such a thing to his face because even if it _wasn’t_ , it’s still very helpful… Not because of its originality, but because of the comfort it brought him.

If anyone knew Felix as well as he does, or perhaps even _better_ than he does, it’s Sylvain. Once, that might have made him burn with jealousy, or filled him with a deep sadness— but then, once, Felix had hated him, or at least had been so angry with him that the effects had been the same.

Now Dimitri feels much more secure in the fact that, even if Sylvain _is_ Felix’s best friend, the love Felix has for _him_ is another creature entirely.

He’s still having to convince himself on a daily basis that that love isn’t temporary or about to flicker out like a candle in the wind, usually enabled by Felix calling him an idiot and telling him to stop thinking such ridiculous things— but he’s getting there. Slowly but surely.

In fact, probably the most helpful part of his talk with Sylvain is hearing him say that he expected this _sooner_. It’s really helped to soothe his worries that he’s moving too fast. Sure, Sylvain might not be the ultimate relationship expert… But Dimitri finds it reassuring nonetheless. Now all that’s left is the matter of actually putting his advice to use.

He doesn’t plan to keep Felix waiting any longer.

Of course, plans are all well and good, but as Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd knows all too well, plans can easily go astray…

For one, while he intends to make use of Sylvain’s advice as soon as possible, there’s the unfortunate matter of his duties getting in the way. A king’s work is never truly done, and his work in particular has been piling up around him since day one. There’s simply so much to do, between helping the newly united Fodlan heal from the war and enacting his own policies…

Felix isn’t without his own work to get in the way, either. Though he has often spoken of passing on the duties associated with running his family’s territory to someone ‘better suited’ to it, that hasn’t manifested yet; Dimitri doubts it ever will. Not only would Felix’s pride not allow it, he also cares too much about the people of his territory, even if his family legacy isn’t something he cares much about.

So, while they’re both still in Fhirdiad and see each other passingly throughout the day and in a series of increasingly _boring_ meetings, it’s a good few days before Dimitri has a chance to spend time alone with Felix.

Fittingly for the advice Sylvain had given him, Felix is in the training grounds when Dimitri goes to look for him. And right away he can tell what Sylvain had meant when he had mentioned Felix’s attitude and his abuse of training dummies.

Dimitri makes a mental note to buy more. It wouldn’t do to have Felix run out of targets and end up having to take his frustrations out on something more alive.

“Felix,” he says, loudly announcing his presence as he strides across the room, though he knows Felix would have already seen him coming even if that hasn’t made him stop what he’s doing. “I was hoping I would find you here.”

“Why? Are you done running away from me, finally?”

Felix punctuates the stinging remark with a strike that sends the training dummy’s head flying with one clean blow.

Dimitri can see what Sylvain meant when he said he wouldn’t be able to afford Felix’s latest destructive streak.

At the same time, he can’t argue against him; he _has_ been avoiding Felix, even when they would otherwise be able to spend time together, because he’s been so nervous and uncertain…

“I thought you and I could spar together,” he says instead of answering the question, because he knows Felix doesn’t really _want_ an answer, he just wants to vent his frustrations. “I fear with all of my desk work, I’ve been falling out of practice.”

That grabs Felix’s attention. It’s hard to tell when he’s not looking at him, but his spine straightens and his ears perk like a hunting dog who’s just heard their prey.

Dimitri doesn’t wait for Felix’s confirmation; he goes over to the rack and picks up a training sword.

There’s no doubt in his mind that Sylvain was on to something with the sparring angle; Dimitri remembers it fondly as one of the few times Felix would interact with him during their times at the Officer’s Academy, and sometimes if their bouts got intense enough he would even seem to forget that he hated him…

It’s probably sad how many fond memories Dimitri has of sparring with Felix just because of that, but he won’t say anything about it. He has no desire to make Felix feel guilty for something that is so far behind them…

When he turns back to Felix, he’s sheathing his sword and watching him with interest.

“A sword?” he scoffs. “You don’t have to lose on purpose as an apology, Dimitri.”

“Let’s just say I’m feeling nostalgic.”

Even though he’s doing this for a _reason_ , one he would do well not to forget, he can’t help but feel his competitive side rise up at Felix’s obvious taunt. Nor can he ignore the little flare of pride when Felix _smiles_ as though he’s forgotten that he’s angry with him.

He reminds himself for the dozenth time to thank Sylvain for his advice.

Felix goes to the rack and selects a sword for himself as well, giving it a spin just to show off as he and Dimitri take their places on opposite sides of the ring. When Felix looks at him, Dimitri can tell he’s just barely managing to keep a smile off his face. Dimitri doesn’t even try.

“Ready?” Felix asks.

“I always have been.”

And then they charge at each other.

Dimitri might be the stronger one between the two of them, but Felix is the more skilled when it comes to swordplay. There were a few years where Felix thought of little else aside from honing his skill with a blade, and it shows.

Of course, Dimitri doesn’t just _let_ him win. That would hardly be sporting, after all, and he knows all too well that it’s the last thing Felix wants.

The fun isn’t in winning; it’s in winning against an opponent with enough skill to be a _challenge_.

Still, it’s no surprise that the bout ends with Felix as the winner, though Dimitri is proud of how hard he fought and how long he held out. He’s even more out of practice with swordplay than he is with a lance, although he’s had precious little time to work with either since the war ended.

(He hasn’t exactly minded, though, appreciating that for the first time in a very long time he doesn’t feel like he _needs_ to have a weapon at hand. He doesn’t tell Felix that, of course… He knows he would get an awful earful about it, about how even though they’re in peace times now he still needs to know how to defend himself, especially since he’s doing such a good job at making himself unpopular with the same sort of nobles who conspired to _get rid of_ his father…

So he keeps quiet, and relishes the fact that he finally feels safe enough to not fall asleep clutching his weapon desperately every night.)

They’re panting and sweaty by the time Felix claims a decisive victory, his foot planted securely on Dimitri’s chest while he points the tip of his training sword at Dimitri’s throat.

“Do you yield?” he asks, swallowing hard and panting with exertion, leaning over Dimitri with his brows furrowed— but the grin on his face tells Dimitri he’s having a good time.

Not that it makes him any less intimidating.

Not that Felix being intimidating has ever made Dimitri any less attracted to him. In fact, it’s always done precisely the opposite.

For a second, Dimitri acts like he’s still deciding, even though he’s pinned to the ground and disarmed. It makes Felix’s grin turn into a frown as he grinds his heel into his chest, hard enough that Dimitri is sure it’s going to bruise, although thankfully it should blend in nicely with the many _other_ bruises Felix has left him with.

Looking up at Felix, sweat dripping down his face, some of his hair starting to escape his hair tie and stick to the sweaty parts of his face— Dimitri feels his breath catch in his chest and his heart beat a little faster, face flushing.

(He hopes Felix just attributes it to the exertion from their fight— although, honestly, they should be well past the point where either of them feels embarrassed about their attraction to each other.

He knows Felix would still get embarrassed regardless. And as adorable as Felix is when he gets embarrassed, Dimitri has a _plan_ , and having Felix storm off in embarrassment does not fit into that plan.)

Finally, he says, “...I yield,” and the pressure of Felix’s heel disappears from his chest as he reaches down to offer his hand to help him to his feet.

Dimitri accepts the offered hand and gets shakily to his feet. Perhaps his racing heart and breathlessness are not _helped_ by Felix’s half-open shirt and sweaty body, but that does nothing to change the fact that he is, at the heart of it, tired because Felix has _worn him out_.

He didn’t really take into consideration the fact that he would be such a _mess_ after their sparring session, but it’s fine. It’s not as though Felix would expect him to be anything less, and he’s not much better himself, and he looks so much more content and relaxed just like Sylvain suggested he would be—

And still. There’s an almost sick feeling in his chest and stomach, like a cavity has opened there, to the point that he barely resists the urge to look down and make sure one _hasn’t_.

Dimitri knows that Felix would not care if things weren’t _perfect_. The only perfection he’s ever cared about is the perfection of his own sword wielding abilities. But Dimitri _wants_ it to be perfect.

So even though he wants to ask _now_ , when Felix is looking so worn and contented, he hesitates— and then the moment passes as Felix announces, “I’m going to take a bath. You should too. You look like a mess.”

And Dimitri watches him walk off, humming to himself, and curses himself for losing his nerve.

Dimitri is only briefly surprised when he steps out of his bathroom and finds Felix lying on his bed, dressed in loose relaxing clothes and reading the book Dimitri had left sitting on his nightstand.

Dimitri leaves his towel draped around his shoulders so his damp hair won’t soak his sheets, as he crawls into his bed alongside Felix. He leans his head into him and peers at the book over his shoulder. Felix’s own hair is still damp from his own bath, and he smells like the strong herbal soap he’s always preferred using over the more popular floral scents.

He somehow resists the urge to turn his head into Felix’s neck and start sniffing him. Felix would probably think he was weird, and if he tells him the reason he knows Felix would get embarrassed, just like he would have gotten embarrassed in the training grounds.

Felix is actually surprisingly bashful considering how blunt he is; it’s one of the many reasons why Dimitri has been fretting and looking for the perfect moment for this.

As they lay there for a few, quiet moments, Dimitri thinks back to the advice Sylvain had given him. After all, as nice as this is, he has something very important to accomplish— and he’s not going to let himself be distracted or deterred any longer.

He owes it to Felix to be honest, after all. And though it seems like Felix has forgiven him for his indiscretions, or at the very least is willing to put the matter aside for the moment so they can enjoy their time together, he deserves the truth.

And Dimitri wants to give him… _Everything._ He always has.

“Ah, Felix…” He clears his throat to get Felix’s attention.

“Hm?”

Felix turns to face him, his lips pressed against the top of Dimitri’s head in a not-quite-kiss as he still half reads the book.

“You’ve got terrible taste in literature,” Felix says, without any venom or heat, as he continues to read the book he’s calling terrible.

“Ingrid recommended it.”

“Of course she did.”

Felix sets the book back on the nightstand, pulling away in order to do so.

Dimitri sits up, just… Admiring. The idea of Felix lying in his bed and just _relaxing_ is something that would have been so foreign to him that the first time it happened, he had been so certain he was dreaming that he had to _literally_ pinch himself to convince himself it was real.

Felix had mocked him for it, which convinced him it was real even more so than the pain.

Dimitri wants to say what’s been on his mind all this time, to just blurt it out, because seeing Felix like this _does things_ to him… But when Felix turns to look at him just as he reaches up to brush back a strand of hair stuck to the back of his neck, his courage flees again.

“What are you staring at?”

“Uh… N-nothing, I suppose.”

Dimitri shakes his head and retracts his hand. Felix raises an eyebrow at him, then sits up.

“You’re still acting weird, Dimitri.” Felix doesn’t like to make eye contact, but he stares directly at Dimitri, like he’s trying to dig for the answer by staring into his soul. “Is there… Something you want to talk about?”

Felix isn’t good at talking, especially not about… Them. Dimitri isn’t, either, for entirely different reasons. It’s really a wonder they’ve gotten so far, coasting as far as possible on things _un_ spoken and forcing themselves through the rest… But they’ve made it work, somehow.

It’s yet another one of the reasons that Dimitri is so held back by fear. Does he truly think Felix will rebuff him, after everything they’ve already been through? Not especially, but the thought that something he says or does might be enough to chase Felix away, even temporarily…

Dimitri never wants to drive Felix away. He wants to keep him as close as possible, forever.

But with Felix staring at him like this, it’s harder and harder to keep a grip on his own thoughts, on the… _Plan_ that he has.

He wants to either run and hide again, or blurt it out without any preface.

Both options seem truly terrible.

Then, Sylvain’s words come back to him…

_Since he’s always so wound up, you could help him relax a little with a nice massage or something._

“D-do you want…” He clears his throat again, trying his hardest not to stammer or fidget, lest Felix figure out exactly what’s going on in his head, and trying to keep as much eye contact as he thinks Felix is comfortable with. “You’ve been training a lot lately, haven’t you? You must be sore after all of that. Would you… Like me to give you a massage?”

Felix tilts his head and narrows his eyes at him. Dimitri knows he’s being scrutinized, and tries to avoid breaking out in a cold sweat at knowing that Felix is _searching_ for some sign of what’s plaguing him…

But perhaps he’s a better actor than he gave himself credit for (or more likely Felix has decided for whatever reason that he doesn’t actually _care_ ) because Felix just rolls his eyes and sits up more, scooching towards him.

“If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you,” he says, which is as close to enthusiastic as Dimitri was expecting him to be.

Truth be told, this isn’t entirely for Felix’s benefit. Dimitri is… Nervous, _has been_ nervous for quite some time, and giving him something to do with his hands and something to focus on other than what’s in his own head is a comfort.

He turns so he’s facing Felix’s back, his hands on his shoulders. As soon as he touches him, he can feel the tension in his muscles— and as soon as he starts kneading, he feels that tension slip away and Felix melt against him even though he knows he has no great amount of skill in this.

“I wouldn’t have expected _you_ to suggest something like this,” Felix says, leaning into his hands. “You always seem so terrified you’re going to break me or something— like I don’t know exactly how strong you are.”

Dimitri blushes at the entirely true accusation, and struggles not to suddenly become self-conscious of his hands as a result.

“I… Have been working on my control,” he says, which is at least true, even if it’s not the real reason.

He’s had plenty of reason to want to control his unnatural strength— the entirety of his life up to this point, in fact— but being with Felix has given him even more reason.

It’s not like Felix is especially _delicate_ — or, at least, Dimitri would never say such a thing to his face, partly because he has no desire to be punched, partly because the thought gives him a sense of anxiety he doesn’t want to think about too much.

Still, the human body in general is… _Squishy_ , for lack of a better term. And after everything _else_ they’ve been through, it would be embarrassing for him to end up hurting Felix because he lost his cool while getting… _Handsy_.

Once again, if Felix suspects anything, he lets him off easy. Perhaps Dimitri is better at this than he gave himself credit for, or perhaps Felix is so tense that his skill level is irrelevant.

The tension he can literally _feel_ in Felix’s muscles _does_ start to disappear, slowly but surely. Dimitri remembers a time when seeing Felix relaxed was a rare honour, especially for _him_ , when the mere sight of him would be enough to raise his hackles and put him on edge.

His thoughts keep coming back to that time, try as he might to stop them. He knows he dwells too much in the past, knows how unhealthy it is. It hasn’t been that long since his obsession with the past nearly destroyed him and his entire kingdom, and he’s still learning how not to fall back into that dangerous pattern every time it crosses his mind—

And yet, he finds himself unable to stop _completely_ — and so he tries instead to focus on the positive, on just how damn _lucky_ he is that they’ve ended up _here_ somehow.

That is what both motivates and terrifies him— this awe at what he and Felix have built together and his desire to make it something even more beautiful, even if Felix would call him a hopeless sap for saying such a thing, grappling with his fear the if he missteps even slightly things will _change_ … And not for the better.

It’s this fear that he’s grappling with when he realizes that Felix is making little _noises_. He knows how much Felix hates being compared to cats— which is probably why everyone, in particular Sylvain and Annette and Mercedes who all know they can get away with it and take delight in seeing Felix bristle and puff up, continue to do it— but Dimitri can’t help it; they sound _exactly_ like the noises a cat makes when you touch them and they’re still not quite awake. He half expects Felix to start _purring_.

And then those noises become softer, more breaths than anything, and Felix relaxes _entirely_ into his touch to the point that Dimitri is supporting his full weight— and he realizes that Felix has actually relaxed so much that he’s _fallen asleep_.

A lot of emotions strike Dimitri at once. He’s flattered, honoured even, that Felix is so comfortable in his bed and under his touch to fall asleep unexpectedly. Dimitri isn’t blind or insensitive enough to think that he’s the only one the war has left scars on, and knowing that Felix has eased up this much despite what he’s gone through is almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Another part of him is disappointed that he’s let another chance slip through his fingers, and just when Sylvain’s advice seemed to be spot on, too. Felix was looking more relaxed and content than Dimitri had seen him in weeks— although part of that was probably because Dimitri had been _avoiding_ him for a lot of that time.

And the final, and perhaps most prominent and _important_ feeling, is the feeling of total adoration that washes over him as he looks at Felix. He’s reminded, as he is every day, of just how beautiful he is; as he carefully lays him down and pulls his hair free from the ponytail he usually keeps it in (longer now than when they were at war, but still not quite as long as it was when they were at the Academy together), his breath catches in his chest as he gently runs his fingers across Felix’s cheek.

Felix goes to smack him and roll over to get away from what must be a ticklish touch, his nose wrinkling, but he doesn’t show any sign of waking up. He must be well and truly exhausted.

Well, no matter how important the matter at hand might be, it’s not nearly as important as letting an exhausted Felix get the rest he so clearly needs.

So Dimitri just leans in, presses a kiss to Felix’s temple, and tucks him in gently while he thinks about how to try again.

In the end, he doesn’t think of anything on his own; his brain just keeps drawing blanks. This is… An important question, something he’s wanted for a long time, something he very much hopes Felix wants just as much as he does, but he has to deal with the fact that there’s a very real possibility that Felix _won’t_.

And that’s fine. There’s nothing that could change the way Dimitri feels about Felix, the way he’s felt about Felix since— well, since they were too young to understand how they felt, holding hands and making promises that life decided they weren’t allowed to keep.

He knows Felix loves him, has felt it in the way he worries and in the way he gets jealous when enterprising young women (or young women spurred on by their enterprising _parents_ ) try to chat with him at royal events and make it quite clear that _chatting_ is not all they’re interested in, has felt it in the way Felix forces him to sleep even when they both know he has work to do because Felix isn’t interested in hearing _excuses_ , has felt it in the way Felix presses kisses to the top of his head where his crown messes his hair up and the way he twines their fingers together when he wants Dimitri to follow him when they’re alone.

Felix doesn’t say it often— certainly less than Dimitri does, but that just means that when he _does_ say it, it feels all the more special. And the ways in which he shows it are every bit as good.

If Felix has different ideas about what he wants their relationship to be like, Dimitri will respect that, and still be in love with Felix, and will be happy with what they have.

But a part of him wonders if those thoughts are how he _truly_ feels, or whether they’re a product of his fear to just… _Ask_.

Sylvain’s last bit of advice from their informative talk comes to him when he can think of nothing else, and he puts it into action the very next day when he sees Felix walking out of a meeting looking as grumpy as ever.

No one else wants to get within stabbing distance when Felix has _that_ look on his face, so Dimitri takes the chance where he can get it and walks right up to Felix while everyone else moves around him like he’s a rock in the middle of a river.

“Felix,” he says brightly, because even though they’re supposed to be… _Subtle_ , he can never help how happy he is to see Felix.

Of course, it took him the better part of a decade to realize that those feelings were not ones of platonic admiration and friendship, so he can only hope that his enthusiasm reads as a king simply being happy to see one of his most trusted advisors.

“Dimitri.”

Felix’s voice is flat and he isn’t looking at him, his brows furrowed and his teeth clenched.

These are all especially bad signs— but if anything, it only makes Dimitri want to _take care of him_ , to give him something to help him feel better.

“Your meeting went that well, did it?”

He hopes the joke will be enough to lift Felix’s mood at least a little, but Felix just exhales slowly and rubs his forehead. At least the muscles in his jaw seem to relax a little.

“My father left an awful mess for me to clean up,” he says, shaking his head. “And the rest of these damn nobles aren’t making it any easier.”

Dimitri nods sympathetically. Neither of them have had things particularly easy since taking over their positions. Most people would say Dimitri has it harder, but Dimitri also has more support than Felix— he does what he can, but they’re both concerned that too much of his help will make the other nobles accuse him of favoritism, and that could easily lead to problems with his reform policies and other things that they already have reason enough to oppose.

Not to mention the fact that they’re still trying to hide the _true_ nature of their relationship, though Dimitri hopes that won’t be a concern for much longer. He’s never been particularly afraid of the nobility, even knowing full well what they were capable of (though most of those nobles have been… _Removed_ ), but he has to play things… Safe, for now.

His father was unpopular with the nobility, and Dimitri is quite proud to be following in his path— a king for the people, though he feels like he does not deserve the honour most days. But it does make his goals all the more difficult to reach.

He wonders if Felix is going to tell him more, but there’s still quite a few people around despite them giving Felix a wide berth, and Felix always prefers to discuss such matters in private.

Which suits his needs perfectly.

“Well, if you have no other business to attend to for the evening…” He looks around to make sure no one is listening too closely, and though he doesn’t see anyone being particularly _obvious_ about listening in on them, he decides to play it safe regardless. “I was wondering if you would dine with me tonight, so we can discuss a few important matters in private?”

A king inviting his trusted advisor to a private meeting over a meal is nothing worth being suspicious of, certainly.

But the advisor in question certainly seems suspicious.

“...Alright,” he says, raising an eyebrow and looking at Dimitri like he’s once again trying to figure out what exactly he’s playing at. “Dinner, then.”

Dimitri hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels, but he suspects from Felix’s reaction that he thinks _something_ is amiss.

Without another word, Felix walks off, either to attend to other business or to get ready for dinner, since the hour looms near—

And Dimitri promptly realizes that he has some arrangements to make, _quickly_ , and scurries off to attend to those before he can get caught up talking with anyone.

When Felix arrives at his chambers, Dimitri is just adding the finishing touches— lighting the candles, making sure the table setting is done up to his satisfaction, and fussing with his own clothes and hair when he has nothing else to worry over.

Felix is freshly washed— Dimitri can once again smell that familiar herbal soap, and he can see that the very tips of Felix’s hair are still damp where they brush against the shoulders of his coat, as though he were too impatient to finish drying it correctly.

(Dimitri knows from experience that he often _is_ , and more than once he’s found himself having to towel off an annoyed Felix who acts utterly petulant at the idea that drying his hair would be anything worth his time.)

Felix normally prefers wearing more casual clothes when they’re alone, but he seems to be wearing the same thing he was wearing when Dimitri last saw him after his meeting— the semi-formal wear of the Duke of Fraldarius, which Dimitri knows he hates wearing unless he absolutely must, so either he had nothing else to wear or he didn’t want to draw too much suspicion because of what Dimitri said when people were listening.

Although Dimitri wants Felix to be comfortable and always finds him attractive no matter what he’s wearing, he has to admit— he likes seeing him with his hair down. It’s not something he gets to see often…

“Dimitri, what is all of this?”

He snaps to attention when he realizes that he’s been staring, and he practically stumbles to get over to Felix and help him unhook the half-cape he hates so much so he can be at least a bit more comfortable.

“I thought it would be nice if we could have a quiet evening together,” he says as he hangs the capelet by the door. “You looked like you were having a hard time earlier.”

“You threw all of this together since my meeting this afternoon?”

Felix is only asking because he knows the answer is _no_ , but Dimitri tries to force back the embarrassed blush that wants to creep onto his face regardless.

“I was already planning to ask when I came to find you,” he admits, figuring that’s a safe enough thing to say. “It just seemed like an even better idea when I saw how stressed you were.”

“I feel like I should ask more questions… But it is just like you to get weird urges to do things like this.”

“You enjoy it, don’t you?”

He’s teasing, but it still doesn’t hurt to hear it, because as much as he knows Felix actually _enjoys_ being wooed and spoiled when they’re alone together, the way he talks about it like it’s something he hates means Dimitri can use the reassurance every now and again.

“...It’s alright. In moderation,” Felix says, his cheeks flushing as he looks away, and that’s all the reassurance Dimitri needs.

Felix scoffs when Dimitri pulls his chair out for him, but sits down anyway.

Dimitri takes his seat across from Felix. He’d made sure everything being served was one of Felix’s favourites, and he’d even broken out the good wine for the occasion, something from the royal stores.

He can see Felix’s mouth practically watering at the steak in front of him as Dimitri pours him a glass of wine, something nice and dry because anything too fruity simply wasn’t to Felix’s taste. It brings a smile to his face as he pours his own glass of wine and offers it up for a toast.

Felix _stares_ at him instead.

“Are you planning on telling me what this is all about?”

“Do I need a reason to want to have a nice dinner with you, Felix?”

“You do when you do… All of _this_.”

He waves his hand at the table, at the fancy dinner Dimitri had been forbidden from helping with (Dedue had overseen the entire process, not knowing what it was for but knowing it was important to him), at the wine he had painstakingly selected with help from someone who actually knew what they were talking about and knew _what wine tasted like_ , at the low glow of the candles and the fact that Dimitri had dressed nicely and put his hair up to keep it out of his face the way he knew Felix liked even though it made him feel especially self-conscious about his eyepatch.

“We eat dinner together more often than not when I’m here,” Felix says, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms, staring at his meal like he wants to dig right in but was holding back to get at the heart of what Dimitri was planning.

Is this the moment? Dimitri feels his heart hammering in his chest, his palms sweating and making him glad he’s wearing gloves.

He hates lying to Felix, pretending like there’s nothing wrong and he’s not _planning_ something— and he hates the way Felix is looking at him demanding an explanation, hates that the whole reason Felix thinks he was avoiding him was because he was simply _too afraid_ to ask him.

Dimitri looks away, face flushing— and then Felix sighs.

“Fine, keep your damn secret. But whatever it is, you better tell me soon, alright? I’m getting tired of waiting.”

Dimitri Looks at him and blinks, watching Felix dig into his meal. As soon as he takes the first bite of his food, all of his tension seems to melt away, just like with the spar, just like with the massage.

He hasn’t even touched his own food, and he feels his breath catching in his throat and chest, making him worry he would choke if he tried. He takes a sip of his wine, feeling the tingle of the alcohol in the back of his throat even though he can’t _taste_ it. He can feel his hands wanting to shake, and he tries his best to still them, and then he takes a deep breath and—

A knock at the door nearly makes him fall out of his chair.

Felix looks up from his meal at the door, significantly less startled, looking mildly annoyed by the interruption.

“It better be important,” he grumbles.

Dimitri knows it must be. For someone to disturb him during a private meeting with one of his advisors, in his own quarters, when he’s specifically instructed his servants and guards not to bother him unless it’s an emergency…

Thus, he feels safe when he says, “Enter.”

He’s unsurprised to see Dedue step just inside the doorway, bowing his head slightly.

“Your Majesty,” he says, and Dimitri almost corrects him— but judging by the serious look on his face, it’s an official matter of importance, so he supposes he’ll let it slide— this time. “I apologize for disturbing you. We’ve just received an urgent message from the Monastery that demands your attention.”

Dimitri nods. If it’s come from Byleth at such a late hour, then it must be important— not to mention being important enough for Dedue to interrupt him when he’s specifically asked not to be disturbed unless it’s of vital importance. If he trusts anyone to know when something is vital enough to come to him, it’s Dedue…

“My apologies, Felix,” he says as he rises from his chair. “I’ll be back as soon as this is dealt with.”

Felix grunts in response, already taking another bite of his meal. He’s acting as though it doesn’t bother him that the quiet dinner Dimitri planned for the two of them is being interrupted, but Dimitri knows better.

So, as he passes by to follow Dedue out, he leans in and presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

_And I’ll finally tell you what’s been on my mind all this time,_ he promises _himself_.


	3. Chapter 3

After their awkward conversation, Sylvain leaves Fhirdiad for a few days to return to Gautier territory and take care of a few issues that he can’t deal with from afar.

When he comes back, Felix seems to be in a better mood and Dimitri isn’t avoiding him anymore— but something still feels _off_.

As much as he doesn’t want to think about the whole situation, Sylvain knows that as Felix’s best friend and one of Dimitri’s most trusted advisors, it’s his responsibility to make sure everything is good in their… _Relationship._

(Okay, maybe that doesn’t completely track, but… He still _feels_ like he _should_ be responsible. He’s the older, wiser friend, after all.

Maybe one day someone will _actually_ believe that, including himself.)

It takes a bit of time before he finds an opportunity to talk to Dimitri alone, since this isn’t a conversation he wants to have in public; one, because Dimitri and Felix still seem to think their relationship is a secret, and two, because this isn’t the sort of thing that _should_ be discussed in public.

“So… You and Felix both seem like you’re in better moods nowadays,” he starts as soon as he and Dimitri are inside of Dimitri’s rooms, wanting to get straight to business and not draw this out any more than he has to. “Did everything go according to plan?”

“Ah… Well…” Dimitri clears his throat and averts his gaze. “I did put all of your advice into action, and it all went quite well…”

Would it be weird for Sylvain to congratulate him? He _feels_ like it would be weird, which is probably why Dimitri is acting so bashful now…

Except, no. It’s something else. Sylvain can’t put his finger on it, but if Dimitri was just being shy about admitting he finally got Felix into bed, he would probably be way more embarrassed.

“But…” Dimitri sighs and shakes his head. “I’m afraid I just couldn’t go through with it. Every time an opportunity arose, either something interrupted me, or it didn’t feel like the right time, or I was too afraid to say anything…”

“Oh, Dimitri…”

Is it pity or exasperation in his voice? Mostly the former, but probably a bit of the latter, too.

As weird as this entire situation feels, he’s glad to be helping Dimitri with this, because he obviously _needs_ the help.

He has to stop and think, though. That was all of his best advice for how to get someone in the mood, so to speak… And if Felix’s adjusted attitude was anything to go by, it’s not like his advice _didn’t work_.

It’s clearly just a matter of Dimitri’s confidence… Sylvain isn’t sure he’s exactly qualified to deal with that, but he really won’t know until he tries.

“You know, Dima…” Sylvain sighs and shakes his head. “Maybe we’re both overthinking this a little.”

Dimitri seems to perk up a bit at that. “Oh? What do you mean, Sylvain?”

“Well, we both know what Felix is like.”

Sylvain won’t say he’s put a _lot_ of thought into this, but he’s definitely put more into it than he would like to admit out loud. Mostly because some part of him was expecting something like this to happen. Dimitri and Felix are a lot more… _Traditional_ than either of them would ever admit, and he’s too smart (despite what most people would say) to actually say that to either of their faces, and all of the advice he could give would never get past that.

That, and the fact that Felix responds to emotional intimacy like a cat responds to someone who pulls their hand away too fast.

He can understand why Dimitri would have… _Reservations_ about approaching such a sensitive topic.

“Wooing him is all well and good, but Felix always likes when people are straightforward and to the point with him… And honestly? No amount of pampering or wooing is going to change the way he feels.”

Sylvain has to look away because the way Dimitri is staring at him like he’s revealing all of the secrets of the universe is making him feel just a little uncomfortable.

Why did he ever want his friends to think he was the cool, older friend with all the answers, anyway? Oh, the follies of youth.

“And hey— there’s no need to rush things, right? I know it can be hard to adjust, but we’re not at war anymore. There’s plenty of time to take things slow.”

Sylvain knows just how hard it is to ignore the feeling that every single day could be their last. And while it’s still technically _true_ , they’re not actively fighting a war that they have no chance of winning anymore. They don’t have to spend every second being afraid that they’d be dead soon— they can actually _live their lives_ , even if those lives are tied up in stupid politics at the moment.

Sylvain is still working on that part, but he’s glad Dimitri and Felix have a head start. They deserve it.

“Just… Do it when it feels right. You’ll know when that is better than anyone else; you don’t have to rush it.”

Sylvain clears his throat, realizing that he’s gotten carried away, and laughs.

“But, you know! That’s just what I think. You’d know better than me, Dimitri. Not that I’m not flattered by you taking my advice… I’m really not the expert you might think I am.”

Dimitri’s wide-eyed, almost awed expression goes soft then, and he chuckles.

“What, even considering all of the _experience_ you have? Don’t worry, Sylvain; you never need to worry about me thinking that.”

“Hey!”

The fact that Dimitri feels comfortable enough (lovingly) mocking him brings a smile to Sylvain’s face— but it doesn’t stop him from looping his arm around Dimitri’s neck and putting him into an affectionate headlock.

Dimitri might be taller than him now ( _barely_ ) and also the king, but that isn’t going to stop Sylvain. He knows that’s how Dimitri wants it, anyway.

“Well, if you’re so _smart_ , Dima,” Sylvain says through gritted teeth as he ruffles Dimitri’s hair, completely messing it up from the way it’s been carefully styled in preparation for all of his kingly duties. “Then the next time I see you, you should have everything figured out with Felix, right?”

He releases his friend, stepping back with his hands on his hips. Dimitri smooths his hair down without really putting any effort into fixing it properly, leaving it a ruffled mess that looks like the way Sylvain would do his own hair (but for him, it would be on _purpose_ ).

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” Dimitri smiles, and Sylvain remembers a time not so long ago when the only smiles Dimitri ever wore were bloodthirsty ones, if they could even be considered smiles— he’d always seen them more like a wild animal baring its teeth.

He’s glad things are different now. He’s glad Dimitri is happy. He’s glad Dimitri and Felix are happy together, and they’ve worked through the problems that left Felix _calling_ him a wild animal for years, problems Sylvain hadn’t really understood until they all met up back at the Monastery in the middle of a seemingly unwinnable war.

And that’s exactly what he tries to think about instead of thinking, once again, about exactly _what_ he’s giving Dimitri advice about doing.

Dimitri’s second talk with Sylvain leaves him feeling much more…

Well. He’s not sure ‘certain’ is the right word.

Truthfully, he feels just as uneasy about approaching Felix as he ever did. But at the same time, he feels much more reassured about…

About everything, really.

Despite his colourful personality and even more ‘colourful’ actions, Sylvain has always had a way of doing that for him. Being sure and calm and being able to laugh things off in a way Dimitri can’t, and isn’t sure he would _ever_ be able to.

Does the idea of asking Felix something so _personal_ and _important_ still frighten him? Of course it does.

But now he feels like he can… Take his time. He doesn’t have to rush into things just because he’s worried their relationship won’t move forward if he doesn’t. They’re both busy; they both have duties and responsibilities towards the Kingdom, towards all of Fodlan, that must take priority. They have a war to clean up after, though Dimitri still feels guilty about how tirelessly his friends and comrades and old school mates have to work to right the wrongs he and Edelgard inflicted on the land.

And if Felix simply isn’t ready yet… That’s okay too, Dimitri tells himself.

He’s waited a long time for Felix. He can wait a while longer.

So now when he approaches Felix to ask him to spend time with him, or to join him in whatever it is he’s doing, it’s not with the intent of working up to asking him the big, important question that sits in the back of his mind constantly. It’s simply because… He enjoys being with Felix. He wants to spend time with him, whatever small moments they can find in their busy lives, and without the pressure of feeling like he absolutely must do everything exactly right or Felix will run away or reject him.

Today, they’re simply… Relaxing. It’s been several hectic days since his second conversation with Sylvain, and Dimitri and Felix have both finally managed to find a moment of peace and quiet. There are no meetings, no urgent matters demanding their attention, and Felix is too physically and mentally exhausted to take any issue with the two of them simply lounging aimlessly in bed.

He’s even in a good mood— Dimitri hasn’t asked because he hasn’t wanted to get him caught up in Business Talk when he finally has a chance to relax, but he imagines that for once the other nobles didn’t make much of a fuss with the changes he wants to make in Fraldarius territory— and he’s letting Dimitri play with his hair, tying little braids into it that he lets fall loose when he’s done rather than keeping them done up with a hair tie.

Hair braiding is one of the many things he had once been too scared of his own strength to do— right up there with petting stray animals. But he trusts Felix to let him know if he’s being too rough, and he has started to trust his own ability to control that strength. He doesn’t want to hurt Felix. Even when he can’t fully trust his own body, he trusts his belief in that simple fact. He would never do something to hurt Felix, not when he has any other choice.

Felix was sharpening and polishing his sword earlier— something he gives just as much care now as he did when they were in the middle of the war— and his room smells like sword oil now. Not that Dimitri minds. The smell of the oil isn’t something he associates with battle and war preparation; it’s something he very distinctly associates with Felix, and has ever since their school days.

Now, though, Felix is just… Dozing. Dimitri can see him trying to fight off full sleep, but he’s just contently laying on his side, letting Dimitri comb through his hair with his fingers. He can see his eyes fluttering every so often, and hear his soft breathing; a few times he’s sure he’s fallen asleep, but then he’ll open his eyes and give Dimitri a Look. Dimitri can practically hear him say ‘what are _you_ looking at’ even if the words don’t actually come.

It’s… Nice. A feeling of peace washes over him. It’s moments like these that remind Dimitri that there’s more to his life than just the struggles of the crown… Though he feels a responsibility to his people after what he’s done, and feels honoured by their faith in him as a leader, it still weighs heavily on him. Moments like these… They make him feel like he has something more than the weight of his own responsibilities to look forward to.

And with that thought, he realizes suddenly that _this_ is what Sylvain was talking about; this _feels right_.

So, Dimitri takes a chance; he leans in and kisses Felix’s neck.

It’s just a small, chaste kiss, but he still feels and _hears_ Felix’s breath catch in his throat. He noses into the hair behind Felix’s ear, waiting for him to say something or tell him to stop— but after a moment, Felix simply relaxes back into him.

Dimitri feels his heart beating faster. He feels like a shy school boy, not a war hardened king, his heart fluttering like a bird.

Still, he doesn’t feel… _Anxious_. Not like before. It’s more… Excitement. Adrenaline, but the good kind. And despite his fluttering heart he still feels bold enough to loop his arm around Felix’s waist and tug him closer, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“You’re awfully affectionate today…” Felix mumbles, voice heavy and syrupy with half-sleep, turning his head just slightly so he can face a little towards Dimitri.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to be together like this,” Dimitri answers, his voice muffled by the fact that he’s pressed against the side of Felix’s neck. “I like to treasure the moments while I can.”

Felix sighs, turning his head back. “Sap.”

“Perhaps.”

Dimitri’s hand creeps up under Felix’s loose tunic, feeling the muscles in his stomach dance at the unexpected exploratory touch, but still Felix doesn’t pull away or express any discomfort; he tenses for the briefest moment, then relaxes again as Dimitri starts rubbing small circles on his stomach like he’s comforting away a stomach ache.

He could fall asleep like this; he’s done so dozens of times before. But despite how warm and comfortable he feels, there’s an energy buzzing under his skin— not unpleasant, but enough to keep him awake, and certainly enough to motivate him to push forward more.

He pushes himself up so he can look down at Felix, admiring his tired and gentle face. Once, it was so rare to see Felix looking so calm and relaxed; he kept his guard up at all times, _especially_ around Dimitri.

He almost feels silly _still_ thinking about it, but he can’t help himself; every time he realizes how much things have _changed_ between them, his heart feels full to bursting. The feeling shoots through him like an arrow, making him feel warm all over

At that moment, he realizes that he _has_ to take that next step. Not because he’s scared of what will happen if he doesn’t— but because he’s so assured of how much he wants it that _not_ doing it seems… Impossible.

Dimitri leans back in again; this time, instead of curling up behind Felix, he halfway drapes himself on top of him as he leans in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Felix…” He _breathes_ more than says his name, his lips just barely touching Felix’s face as he traces them across the sharp curve of his cheekbone. Felix is all sharp, harsh angles, but Dimitri is almost delighted when he tightens his grip around Felix’s midsection and finds softness there.

He won’t say it out loud, because he knows full well Felix won’t take it as the compliment he means it to be— and it will make him push himself harder in his training for fear he’s getting out of shape. But he delights in knowing that after the harsh conditions of the war, when they barely had enough food to scrape by and there were long periods of time when they survived only on what the Monastery’s greenhouse could provide along with simple gruel, Felix has finally started to fill out. It’s not the body of a soldier at war— it’s the body of someone who is well taken care of and doesn’t have to worry about where his next meal is coming from, or whether he’ll survive to see the next sunrise, either at the hands of weakness or the hands of an enemy’s weapon.

“What’s gotten into you today?” Felix grumbles under his breath, just barely loud enough for Dimitri to hear as he turns so he can put his arm around the back of Dimitri’s neck. “You’re being so _clingy_.”

“Just… Thinking about how lucky I am, I suppose.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Sap.”

“You said that already.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true the second time.”

“I suppose not.”

Instead of just rolling over and going back to ignoring him and dozing like before, Felix stays turned so they can look in each others’ eyes. Their faces are so close that Dimitri can feel Felix’s warm breath on him, and Dimitri finds himself wanting to feel Felix’s eyelashes— so much longer and delicate than he would have expected before he first got the chance to see them up close— fluttering against his skin.

“Dimitri…”

Felix turns to kiss him, his own hand coming up to Dimitri’s chest, loosely gripping his shirt as their lips brush together. It’s brief, and chaste, barely more than a peck, but Felix chases after him looking for another, and another, and another…

Something about Dimitri’s attentions must help Felix wake up— give him a ‘second wind’, as it were, because Dimitri hardly knows what’s happening before he’s lying on his back with Felix lying on top of him, pressing kisses not only to his lips but also to the side of his face and jaw.

Dimitri _could_ quip about Felix being just as _affectionate_ as him, but aside from not wanting to ruin the moment by making Felix have to stop and glare at him, his mouth is otherwise occupied by the kisses.

His hands travel down to Felix’s waist, his thumbs digging into the dimples he knows are there even if he can’t see them under his shirt.

(He’s been driven to distraction often enough by them during training when Felix decides it’s easier for him to just train without his shirt on, after all… He knows exactly where they are, and _exactly_ how much they affect him.)

“Felix…”

“Shh.”

“Felix…”

“Be quiet.”

Their voices are little more than whispers, as though they’re both afraid to disturb the peace of the moment, but Felix’s hand tangles in his hair— partly as a warning, partly to give him a grip that allows him to tilt his head back and better press kisses along his jawline and throat.

Felix’s command is forceful even with how quiet it is, and Dimitri _wants_ to obey, but…

“Felix.”

Felix pulls back to glare at him, but Dimitri doesn’t falter, or give him a chance to speak.

Instead, he grabs Felix by the shoulders, pushing them both up so they’re mostly sitting up. He stares intensely at him. The look on his face must surprise him, because instead of glaring back he looks shocked, blinking wide eyed.

“Marry me.”

For a few moments, silence. Then,

“...What?”

Felix blinks almost owlishly at him, then furrows his brow not in annoyance but in confusion. He looks like he doesn’t quite understand what Dimitri just said, as though he were speaking a completely different language— and Dimitri can see the moment understanding hits him because suddenly his entire face, starting at the tips of his ears and working its way down, turns bright red.

“Dimitri— what kind of—!”

Felix sputters, pushing away and falling backwards onto the bed, burying his reddening face in his hands.

Before his talk with Sylvain, that might have been enough to make Dimitri panic— to make him think that Felix was rejecting him.

Now, he presses forward— literally and figuratively, as he crawls forward on the bed, his hands coming in on either side of him.

“I’m serious, Felix,” he says, his voice as steady as his gaze.

He’s never been more serious about _anything_ in his life.

“Marry me,” he repeats as he reaches up with one hand to pull Felix’s hand away from his face. He doesn’t want to make Felix uncomfortable, but… He _needs_ to look at him, to see his thoughts in his eyes even if he won’t say them out loud.

What he sees there… Is a mixture of confusion and a glimmer of _hope_.

“Have you lost your mind? Haven’t we been trying to keep a low profile for a reason? And now you just say something like… _That_?”

“I don’t want to hide anymore, and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it. I want to be with you, Felix— not just in the comfort and privacy of our rooms, but where everyone can see.”

“Idiot… Don’t just _say_ things like that…”

Felix turns his head like he can hide how red he’s turning, but it just makes Dimitri smile.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, you know,” he continues, his confidence rising rather than faltering. “I’ve been trying for a long time to come up with the perfect way to ask, to make you understand just how serious I am about this— but I could think and think and think forever and not think of anything that can properly express the way I feel about you, and how badly I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how anyone else feels about it.”

Dimitri leans back on his haunches, reaching for Felix’s hands. Felix tenses up when he pulls his remaining hand away from his face, but he says nothing and doesn’t try to pull away as Dimitri gently grasps his hands in his own.

He loosens his hands so he can spread them. Felix doesn’t move to pull his hands back; he’s still flushed, but instead of looking away he’s staring intensely at their hands, watching every tiny movement the way a cat would watch the piece of string they’re chasing across the floor.

Dimitri presses his palms against Felix’s hands, and Felix quickly mirrors him, pressing palms against Dimitri’s and spreading his fingers. The size of their hands are thrown into stark contrast— but even though his hands are so much smaller and more narrow, they’re nearly equal in length, because Felix’s fingers are so long.

Both of their hands are calloused from years of weapon training, and from years of putting that weapon training to _use_. And yet, even if Felix’s hands aren’t soft, Dimitri loves the texture… Loves the feeling of the rough tips of his fingers against his skin, especially the small, fleeting touches that Felix gives him when they’re among friends but not alone together…

Dimitri wants this. He wants this to be the way he lives the rest of his life; finishing the hard work of a king and being able to come to his chambers and spend the night cuddling with Felix and chasing away the dreariness and exhaustion of a day’s work without having to worry that someone will find out. Not having to make up excuses for why Felix is meeting him in his private chambers, or for why Felix is visiting him in Fhirdiad at all. Being able to hold his hand and give him chaste kisses in public— though he highly doubts even marriage will do much to affect Felix’s opinion of public displays of affection, all things considered.

He wants it so bad it hurts, and once again Dimitri silently thanks Sylvain for giving him the encouragement he needed to finally push through his anxieties and worries.

“Dimitri…” Felix sighs, and before he can say anything, Dimitri angles his hands so their fingers slide together. Felix locks their fingers together in a tight clasp, almost as if by instinct. “You say you’re serious, but are you really prepared for what this means?”

“Yes. I know that it won’t be a popular decision, but I’m far past the point of caring. I can’t keep pretending to live my life the way a bunch of small-minded old men want me to.”

It’s not as though Dimitri has _relished_ doing so up to this point, or even truly accepted it. It’s simply been a matter of focusing on what rocking of the boat he _could_ do, and gritting his teeth about the rest— picking his battles so he could focus on the most important things he couldn’t afford to have obstructed, while not pushing the old guard far enough that they would openly turn against him the way they had turned against his father. Faerghus is still recovering from the war, after all— pushing them to the brink of a civil war is the last thing he wants to do, no matter what he has to sacrifice to keep the peace.

Now, though— he’s accomplished so much of what he set out to do, or at the very least laid the groundwork in such a way that even a group of upset nobles could do very little to overturn it. He can afford to upset them a little.

Even if he can’t… Well. He’s tried to strike an accord between not completely upheaving Fodlan after such a long and arduous war that nearly tore it to shreds, and fixing what needs to be fixed— what’s needed to be fixed for a _long_ time— without “abusing” his power as the king.

Some days he thinks the nobles so caught up in clinging to their shreds of power _deserve_ a little abuse.

(He tries not to think that way too often lest he slip down the same path he was on before; still, he certainly won’t be complaining when they retire, though. He has Felix and Sylvain, at least, but it still doesn’t make most things _easy_.)

Dimitri refocuses himself on the present— on the way his and Felix’s hands are clasped together, on the way Felix’s face is still beet red even though his expression has changed from embarrassed to… Determined?

“...Wait here.”

Dimitri is reluctant to let Felix go, but he doesn’t argue as Felix pulls away, simply leaning towards him even as he slides off the bed and heads for the door.

It must be no more than five minutes— Felix’s quarters, which are always unused whenever he’s visiting Fhirdiad except to hold what few things he brings with him, are just down the hall— but every second seems to stretch on. Dimitri has no idea what Felix is doing, and there’s even a moment where he wonders if maybe Felix has just _left_ …

Thankfully, that’s the moment Felix chooses to reappear, cradling something in his hands as he slips back into the room. Dimitri tilts his head, trying to see what he’s holding, but Felix keeps it carefully hidden— glaring at him when he sees him trying to peer back and forth to try and catch a glimpse— as he crosses the room and stops at the foot of his bed.

Then… He stops. He says nothing, just stands there at the foot of the bed staring at his own folded hands with a look of frustrated concentration.

“Felix…?”

Dimitri is almost afraid to say anything, because that _fear_ returns, that concern that Felix is just going to… _Run_.

It’s not that he thinks Felix doesn’t love him and doesn’t want to be with him. Nor does he think Felix is afraid of what people will think. In fact, Dimitri thinks he would be quite happy if he could piss off every single noble who’s been so insistent on getting in their way and causing them grief since before he even took the throne.

It’s more that… He knows how difficult it is for Felix to process his own feelings, or to accept the sincerity of the feelings of others. That’s why he wanted to make sure everything was perfect, so Felix would feel safe and comfortable and not feel compelled to deny the sincerity of his feelings.

He doesn’t reach out towards Felix, not physically, because he knows Felix works best when given his own time to do things. But he does sit there, looking at him with undisguised concern and anticipation, hands folded in his lap and barely resisting the urge to ask him what he’s holding.

“Here— my father gave this to me before he died. Knowing the old man, he would be happy to know you’re the one I’m giving it to.”

Felix thrusts his hand out and Dimitri politely ignores the fact that his grip is white-knuckled and shaking, so he can reach out and take the offering.

It’s a ring box, which makes Dimitri’s breath catch in his throat. When he opens it, it’s a delicate silver ring with lovely blue gemstones inlaid in the pattern of a blossoming flower.

“You’ll probably need to get it resized,” Felix mutters, looking away as Dimitri pulls the ring from the box. “It belonged to my mother, but her hands were a lot smaller than yours.”

Dimitri opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

True, the ring is too small; he can tell just by holding it in the palm of his hand. But it doesn’t matter. If it can’t be refitted, then he’ll string it on a chain and wear it for the rest of his life.

He wants to cry, and he doesn’t resist that urge; he sniffs as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

“Dimitri? Are you… Crying?”

“I’m sorry, Felix; I’m just… Truly honoured,” he says as he pushes the sleeve of his shirt up to better wipe away the tears that are flowing.

Then, as though struck with lightning, Dimitri springs off the bed and goes for his desk at the far end of the room. The top drawer is locked, and he fumbles with the key for a moment before pulling out a similar box, crawling back onto the bed at the same time as Felix to present it to him.

“It also belonged to my mother,” Dimitri says as he pulls Felix into his lap and sets the ring box in his hand. Felix opens it and just _stares_ at it, and Dimitri takes the opportunity to take the ring from the box and slide it onto Felix’s finger.

Unlike Felix’s ring, Dimitr’s fits perfectly.

Felix is just silently staring at his hand, and Dimitri leans in to press a kiss to his temple, then again to his cheek.

“I love you, Felix,” he says, muttered against his skin. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

“Of course it does, you moron,” Felix mutters back, for much more adorably shy reasons. “As long as you’re prepared to accept the consequences. I promised you I would stay by your side and I intend to keep that promise.”

Dimitri hasn’t been able to stop smiling this entire time, but somehow, his smile grows even wider.

(Later on he’ll realize that the fact that Felix had his mother’s ring in his room means that Felix must have been planning on proposing to him as well, but for the moment he just basks in the feeling of _completeness_.)


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Sylvain visits Fhirdiad, he can tell something is _different_.

It’s not that long after his last visit; he just couldn’t stay away. He’s in too deep now; he _has_ to know how Dimitri and Felix’s little dilemma has ended, even if thinking about it too hard makes him start imagining things he’s never wanted to think about in his life.

But when he arrives, it doesn’t take him long to realize that there’s a kind of _buzz_ around the castle. In some places and with some people, it’s excitement; he sees the maids whispering to each other like they’re sharing the juiciest gossip.

In other people it’s… Less so. Some of the other visiting nobles look nervous, like they’re walking on eggshells; some of them have sour looks on their faces and glare at him when they think he’s not looking, only to look away and feign a cough when he shoots a (very fake) pleasant smile and a nod in their direction.

Either way, something feels… Off. He can’t put his finger on it, but he tries to act like everything is normal— goes to his room to make sure his things have been delivered safely, and freshens up before going to find Dimitri and Felix while hiding the nervous anticipation he feels.

He finds them in the council chambers, having some kind of informal meeting with one of the minor lords who has had Itha divided up between them. The lord looks flustered, prodding insistently at a map that Dimitri is studying intently.

Felix is there too, standing behind Dimitri with his arms crossed, glaring at the lord which is probably what’s making him so nervous. Dimitri seems oblivious, but Sylvain knows him well enough to see that it’s an act— he struggles to keep a smile from tugging at the edge of his lips, hiding his mouth behind his hand like he’s deep in thought rather than trying to hide laughter.

Sylvain lingers in the doorway, arms crossed, wanting to see how long it will take any of them to notice that he’s there.

“Felix… Would you take a look at this, please?” Dimitri points at something on the map, and Felix steps up even closer behind him, his hand coming to rest on Dimitri’s shoulder as he leans over him to see what he’s pointing at.

Sylvain almost blows his ‘cover’ by laughing out loud at the look on the lord’s face. To him, Felix calling Dimitri by his first name and touching him so casually is completely normal; it would be even if he didn’t know the truth about them. They’ve all known each other since they were _babies_ , and unlike him, Felix can’t even be bothered to fake formality with Dimitri in public.

But… There’s something else to it, too. The lord looks away as Felix presses his back against Dimitri while he leans over him, saying something into his ear too quietly for Sylvain on the far end of the room to hear, clearly embarrassed.

Dimitri tilts his head to look up at Felix, who stops his explanation to raise an eyebrow at Dimitri. Dimitri reaches up to put his hand over Felix’s, and Felix rolls his eyes but doesn’t bat his hand away.

The two of them are never as ‘subtle’ or ‘sneaky’ as they think they’re being, but this definitely feels like something else. Even _they_ can’t be that blind, after all.

The lord is the one who notices him first, doing a double take when he sees him. Sylvain smiles and nods in his direction, perfectly fake and polite, as politics always demands.

Sylvain isn’t sure whether he’s upset about the interruption, or whether he’s using his sudden appearance as an excuse to leave, but he makes some sort of mumbled platitude as he gathers his maps up and practically _runs_ out of the room.

“So.” Sylvain clicks his tongue as he steps into the room fully, drawing Dimitri and Felix’s attention to him, finally. “You two have finally decided to stop very badly pretending you’re not together, hm?”

Felix glares at him, and Dimitri chuckles, clearly embarrassed if the blush working its way down from his ears is anything to go by.

“It seemed like an appropriate time,” Dimitri says. “Everyone would know soon enough anyway.”

Sylvain almost, _almost_ makes a PDA joke, asking if the two of them are really that bad at keeping it in their pants, but he refrains.

He’s happy for them, at any rate. Even if he has to keep reminding himself how much he _does not want_ to think about it. Felix is looking at him like he’s still deciding whether to murder him where he stands, but with how tense Felix was before, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have even had time to _run_ , so he’s definitely relaxed more. And Dimitri…

Well, Dimitri has a certain _glow_ about him that makes Sylvain want to make even _more_ wildly inappropriate jokes.

He wonders, idly, whether Ingrid would be proud of him for _not_ saying them, or whether she would give him an earful for even thinking of such things in the first place.

He decides not to test it.

“I have to thank you, Sylvain,” Dimitri says as his grip on Felix’s hand turns to loosely holding his wrist. Felix isn’t as small as everyone thinks he is— it’s not his fault he’s surrounded by people like him and Dimitri and Dedue, after all— but it’s hard not to _think_ of him as small when Dimitri can hold his wrist in his hand so casually. “If not for your advice, I don’t think I would have had the confidence to move forward.”

“Really, Dimitri, I didn’t do or say anything special,” Sylvain says, trying not to let it go to his head while also thinking, _so we’re really going to talk about this now, huh_.

It was weird enough when it was just the two of them, but at the same time, he’d felt pretty flattered that Dimitri was willing to come to him for advice on such a sensitive and personal subject.

With Felix in the mix, though? Sylvain is _increasingly_ worried he’s going to say something a little too personal— or too _stupid_ — and he’s going to have to run for his life.

(He is _not_ dressed for running for his life. Really, that’s a mistake on his part; he should know better any time he comes to visit Felix.)

“I’m glad everything worked out, though.” That’s not just a platitude; he means it. Even if the subject matter is… Dicey.

“You’re the first person who knows,” Felix says. “Don’t go spreading it around.”

“I… Won’t?” Sylvain _hopes_ he’s the first person— and the only person— who knows. Faerghus— and Fodlan in general— might be pretty _weird_ about sex and sexuality, but it’s still not something to go shouting from the rooftops.

If anyone _doesn’t_ figure it out, though, Sylvain is pretty sure they’re the dumbest people alive. Not wanting to think about it is one thing; most of the old lords of Faerghus and the rest of the sort-of unified Fodlan who are still managing to cling to their territories and titles after Dimitri finished cleaning house are either homophobic, or incredibly prudish, or both. But if they can’t figure it out from the way they look at each other…

There’s _willfully_ ignorant, and then there’s just plain _stupid_.

Felix raises an eyebrow at him. It’s the look he usually gets when Felix is about to ask him if _he’s_ stupid. Sylvain frowns, not sure why he’s getting _that_ look—

“We were hoping that you would be part of the ceremony. Ingrid and Dedue as well, of course— we’re going to tell them as soon as possible…”

For a moment, Sylvain’s brain just— stops working entirely, and he wonders what _big part_ of Faerghus’ admittedly incredibly lacking sexual education he’s missed that would make losing your virginity require some kind of _ceremony_. Not to mention one your friends participate in!

He’s just about to open his big mouth to say something to that effect that would definitely get him punched when Felix narrows his eyes suspiciously at him, enough to make Sylvain look away—

And he notices the necklace Dimitri is wearing.

Or, more specifically, what’s dangling from the end of the _chain_ Dimitri is wearing.

Sylvain has always had a weird eye for detail, even when he struggles to see the bigger picture, and more importantly to read people. The ring looks… Oddly familiar, but it takes him a second to place it.

He’s seen it a thousand times— not in person (at least, not since he was too young to remember it, good memory or not), but in the massive portrait of Felix’s late mother hanging in the front hall of Felix’s childhood home.

Suddenly, things fall into place.

“Oh— yes, absolutely!” He tries to play it off like he was just _pleasantly surprised_ , but it just makes Felix’s eyes narrow at him suspiciously. He pushes through anyway. “Congratulations, you two. I knew you had it in you, Dima.”

If _Dimitri_ is suspicious of him, he doesn’t show it; in fact, even though he’s _trying_ to look at Sylvain, his eyes keep wandering back to Felix.

Sap.

“Do you have a date set?” he asks, because asking questions seems safer than letting Felix fill the silence with whatever he’s about to accuse him of.

“Not yet.” Felix is still squinting at him, but he pauses just long enough to turn his glare on Dimitri. “ _Someone_ thinks that we should ease the old bastards into it.”

“Only because I want the process to go as smoothly as possible, Felix.” Dimitri frowns as he brings Felix’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “I’ve already told you, I don’t care what they think about us… I just simply want their objections to be as toothless as we can manage.”

Felix blushes and looks away when Dimitri kisses his knuckles. It’s such an intimate gesture that Sylvain feels like he should look away, too— but he can’t quite bring himself to, and the moment passes quickly.

Unfortunately it passes right back into Felix looking at him _like that_.

“I thought you already knew about this,” he says. Sweat starts dripping down the back of Sylvain’s neck. “You’re the one that gave him advice, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah, well… It was kind of… _General_ advice! Not specifically about getting married!”

Sylvain laughs nervously and tries to hide the ‘nervously’ part.

Felix clearly doesn’t buy it. Dimitri looks… Confused.

“It’s just that, when you were talking about taking your relationship to the next level… Well, I was thinking of something… _Different_.”

The words flow out before Sylvain can stop himself, and he barely resists the urge to slap his hand over his mouth as soon as he realizes what he’s done.

He watches Felix and Dimitri’s expressions shift as if in slow motion; Dimitri’s confusion changes to realization, which changes into embarrassment as the blush on his face starts to overtake him at an alarming rate, turning to look away from Sylvain like that’s going to do anything to hide it.

Felix, on the other hand?

Sylvain has seen that expression plenty of times, and he has _never_ wanted to be on the receiving end of it.

“Sylvain,” Felix says, voice even and _terrifying_. “Are you telling me that you thought you were giving Dimitri _sex advice_?”

“Felix, there’s no need to— _spell it out_ like that,” Dimitri says, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

“No, Dimitri. I need him to hear exactly how stupid he sounds.”

“Hey, in my defense,” Sylvain says, feeling his chest puff out. “Dimitri was acting all _coy_ and didn’t actually _say_ that he was planning to _propose_. When the two of you have been pretending you’re not together— very _badly_ pretending— for so long, you can’t expect me to make _that_ kind of leap of logic!”

Felix deflates a little, bringing a hand up to his face to cover his eyes. “In that case, I’m willing to admit that you’re _both_ incredibly stupid. Does that make you feel better?”

“A little,” Sylvain admits, at the same time as Dimitri makes a grumpy noise in the back of his throat.

He could just leave it there, give him his congratulations again and strike up conversation about the wedding— but Sylvain would not be Sylvain if he didn’t push his luck at every available opportunity.

“So,” he says, his voice rising to a higher, more playful pitch that instantly makes Felix turn and glare at him with a ‘don’t you dare say whatever you’re about to say’ look that Sylvain completely ignores even though he knows it’s a bad idea. “Does that mean you two _have_ done it, or are you the ‘waiting for marriage’ type?”

There’s a moment of silence that gives Sylvain _just_ enough time to realize the mistake he’s made before,

“Sylvain.”

“Yes, Fe?”

“I’ll give you a five second head start. You had better make good use of it.”

He knows better than to ignore a kindness like that, and so he does.

And next time, he’s going to remember to dress for _running_ when he comes to visit.


End file.
